


behind the scenes

by darlingtimes



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, and goes up to act 2, talks about tenma before mankai, this is allll headcanon buds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingtimes/pseuds/darlingtimes
Summary: Igawa has been Tenma's manager for a while, now.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	behind the scenes

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted more igawa. and also i love tenma, happy early birthday to sweetie pie sunflower boy!! i hope you enjoy reading!!

_Oh, boy_. That’s what Igawa first thought upon meeting Tenma Sumeragi, age 12, genius child actor (self and media-proclaimed). Unlike the determined young heroes he played on the silver screen, Tenma was an arrogant, stubborn, and unfriendly kid. When he prepared for a role, his eyes were shining, but at any other moment his words were haughty and sharp.

 _Well, a job is a job_. If your first impression of a client is that he’s kind of a brat, it doesn’t matter, because all you’re doing is getting paid for securing jobs and getting him from place to place.

Except it turned out that being Tenma’s manager required much more than that.

“Igawa, take me to school.”

“Tenma? It’s 10 AM, haven’t classes started already? I’m picking you up _after_ school today for that magazine shoot... ”

“My old manager took me to school every day… I took a detour, that’s why I’m not at school right now.”

“You got lost on a detour? Tenma, your school is only one station away from your home. Can’t you bring up a map on your phone? I know you have a train card, or at least money for a taxi.”

“...I’m not lost. But I don’t see any taxis and you should take me to school.”

Sighing, Igawa said, “Please describe the area around you and stay in one place, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Whether on location or in his own town, Tenma Sumeragi has no sense of direction. Igawa established this after a few more episodes of “I’m not lost.” So now his job was, securing jobs and getting Tenma from place to place, plus being his personal chauffeur to school.

“Would you mind visiting our home and checking up on Tenma? We’ve hired a cook and cleaner, but just in case. Oh, and about his schooling; would you speak to his counselor about his classes next year on our behalf?”

Add makeshift guardian to the list. At the very least, he was getting paid for all this.

Despite the hassle, though, the more time Igawa spent with Tenma the less of a brat he seemed. He was a child of contradictions, as many are. Self-centered, but considerate--not once did the boy treat his coworkers with anything less than respect, younger or older, but the way he didn’t realize not everyone held his confidence or privilege made many of his comments to others callous and biting. Mature, but childish--Igawa couldn’t count all the gaps between the Tenma Sumeragi, professional actor with a cool exterior, and the kid that called him from home to scream “Igawa, there’s a millipede in the kitchen and the cleaners already left what do I do!!” (And the kid that spent two nervous hours in the bathroom to pump himself up for his very first kiss scene, and the kid who was late to his shoot because he was playing with the canine actors…)

At his heart, Tenma was just a good kid with a dream he was determined to reach. Seeing how Tenma pushed forward to improve, hanging on to any advice or criticism he received from veteran actors or directors with a spiteful passion, practicing his movements or voice projection for hours after his personal instructors had left--all that effort made Igawa want to support him the best he could.

Even more than that, how could you not endear yourself to a kid that you spend all your time with? Especially if that kid has an empty space where people who love him were supposed to stand.

Igawa had never seen Tenma cry off camera, but the look of steely acceptance whenever his parents canceled a day out together made Igawa want to give Tenma _something_. Something so that this kid could smile the way his nephew did when he got a break from school--not that Tenma would ever want a break from acting--or when his nephew came home from the arcade with his friends. Some kind of normal happiness, a happiness that Tenma lacked--he had no hobbies other than acting, and anybody he ever talked to his age was gone as soon as they finished a film together, so he didn’t even have _friends_.

All Tenma had was a dream to work towards, and as wonderful that was, there had to be something more for him.

Igawa was a bit awkward about it--he was just a manager, after all--but he did his best to keep Tenma company and give him a life outside of acting. Going to bonsai exhibitions (a surprising interest of Tenma’s that Igawa noticed by a single greenery magazine buried among film ones), making Tenma pause his long-winded self-rehearsals to take him out shopping--Igawa made it a point to just hang out with him every once in a while, in between work.

He wasn’t sure if it worked to make Tenma more spoiled or less lonely sometimes, since at some point Tenma just got a little too used to Igawa being there for everything, but remembering how down Tenma used to look when his parents weren’t there and seeing how fine he looked now, Igawa figured that it was good thing he decided to devote more space in his life to this kid.

Igawa was happy to see that his efforts had given Tenma a somewhat enjoyable life away from acting, though still worried about his lack of friends for a boy of sixteen, when the Mankai Company happened.

On one of Tenma’s rare days off, he went a small theater on Veludo Way to see _Romeo and Julius_ \--there were only a few reviews hidden on a corner of the Internet, but it was praised for heart and freshness (“A charming play, full of of drama and comedy; the actors are unpolished but convey splendidly raw emotion!”), so Igawa ordered a ticket for him and dropped him off before some evening desk work.

Tenma was always captivated by acting, but there was something else about the live stage that he was oddly fixated on, despite rejecting any stage roles that came his way with a stubborn, “My stage is the screen.” The night he watched _Romeo and Julius,_ Igawa expected to hear his usual remarks and reflections on the actors’ skills, but instead was greeted with an unusual silence.

“How was the play, Tenma?”

Staring intently at a flyer in his hand with _SUMMER TROUPE AUDITIONS_ emblazoned across it, Tenma said, “Not as bad as I thought they’d be… What’s the schedule for the next month?”

“You just finished shooting that last movie, so until your next movie offer the schedule’s filled with auditions and magazine inter--”

“Cancel everything on the 23rd and take me to this theater. I’m going to join this troupe.”

“Join--what? This theater troupe? Tenma, you can’t do that on a whim. Joining a troupe means a whole new affiliation to deal with; you have your hands full with that weekly drama and we’re expecting an offer for the lead role in--”

Tenma gripped the play flyer tightly and looked Igawa in the eye with stubborn determination. “We can keep it secret until I get on stage, so we won’t have to worry about publicity and affiliation. And I can keep up with work even if I join--it’s still just acting. But I want to do this. I need to… I mean, _they_ need good actors to fill up their ranks, and they looked like they had potential. So I’m doing them a favor and joining.”

“Tenma…” Sighing, Igawa gave in. It didn’t seem like too much harm, and Tenma only made requests like this every once in a while--the last time was when he wanted to postpone a semi-major interview to attend an acting workshop with some of his most admired movie stars.

“Alright... I’ll clear up the 23rd for you.”

Igawa thought it would be a minor addition to Tenma’s life, but he was very wrong about that. It brought a tidal wave of change.

“Ignore the voice mail from the Director, I told her I got permission already. Get a moving company to bring my stuff to the dorms, I’m staying there now.”

“I’m playing the lead in the play, cancel that movie offer and don’t tell my dad.”

“Cancel my work for the weekend, my troupe’s going on a training camp.”

Tenma’s hours acting with the troupe were slowly overcoming his work schedule. Igawa was seeing him less and less--it seemed that Tenma wanted to keep his manager away from this portion of his life to ensure nothing got to his parents--but despite this “secrecy,” every time they met, Tenma had quite a few amusing remarks to make.

“I’m not that self-centered, am I, Igawa?!”

“There’s this _insolent_ kid, I swear he doesn’t even know my name! Can you believe that?! He keeps calling me hack--”

“Can you check out if that one stunt coach is still doing private lessons--there’s only one guy who can do them in my troupe, but not for long if I can get the hang of it!”

Tenma was doing great--he was more fired up than ever about acting, gaining some skills unique to the live stage, and Igawa was happy to see that he was forming some good friendships. He could tell Tenma was bursting at the seams with a drive to act alongside others.

But despite this all this good change, Igawa felt a nervous premonition--Tenma could only be here because he was sitting on pretty pile of lies to his parents. Igawa went along with it because one, Tenma was incredibly stubborn, and two, he seemed confident that their out-of-country status would keep them from knowing (“And I’ll tell them eventually, anyway!”)--but the chance of them finding out was still there. And if they disapproved when they found out… Professionally, Igawa had to answer to the Sumeragis over their son.

Unfortunately, his premonition was right on the mark.

When Tenma’s parents finished their overseas work early and dropped by the office that evening, Igawa had zero prepared explanation for why he was at his desk and not accompanying Tenma to a major movie shoot--no explanation but the truth.

So he went to bring Tenma back, ignoring the part of himself mourning Tenma’s loss of a place to belong. _It’ll be fine. Tenma can stay in touch with his friends and pursue theater later, when he doesn’t have a large movie opportunity or parents looming over his shoulder._

Igawa’s job was over for the day when he dropped Tenma off at home, and he went to sleep with a touch of worry in the back of his head.

It wasn’t over yet, though--Igawa forgot momentarily just how stubborn Tenma was.

The next morning, after he had his breakfast, Igawa opened his laptop to a flood of emails from news companies, and one from Tenma.

* * *

from: Tenma Sumeragi <tenma@sumeragi.com>

to: Igawa <igawa@sumeragi.com>

time: 12:04 am (today)

subject: Water me!

I convinced my dad to let me keep the lead role and I went public with it [here](https://newborn.mankai-company.jp/) on the Mankai Company’s website. If anyone contacts you instead of Matsukawa, the company’s manager, tell them that our dress rehearsal is the day before opening night and open to the press. Enjoy your time off--I’ll be giving this play my full attention for the entire run.

* * *

“Pfft.” _Well, that’s the nicest way I’ve ever heard anyone say “Let me deal with this on my own” to date._

Igawa took a breath in, relief settling over him. Tenma wanted this, it was his choice, and he fought for it. All his manager had to do now was support him--and sort out emails.

But it looked like it was too early for relief--the day after dress rehearsals, several critical articles cropped up regarding the subpar production of _Water me!_ Half-torn between dread for the public’s reaction to opening night and faith in Tenma’s acting skill, Igawa had a headache the whole day, praying that it would go well despite the rehearsal.

Well, he’d see for himself with his opening night ticket. Hopefully, Tenma’d be in top shape, and his parents wouldn’t pull him out of the troupe for a terrible job.

Igawa's hope was fulfilled, and the second the curtain rose, the Summer Troupe drew the audience into the world of Arabian nights. Unlike how he was for the screen, Tenma’s acting here was fluid, moving smoothly from scene to scene instead of crisp and ready to cut off for another camera angle. He was already a skilled actor, but the performance had an incredible punch to it; maybe because he was live on a stage, or because he had worked so hard with his friends that their scenes together had perfect comedic chemistry. Even when Tenma let out lines or movements that he might reshoot an entire movie scene for, there was no sense of frustration or stiffness that followed; the “mistakes” just mixed smoothly into the act, played off with a joke or adding to how real these characters felt.

Igawa left the theater feeling proud, a weight lifted off his shoulders. Tenma was glowing with pride and excitement at curtain call; he had found a wonderful place to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! i love tenma and igawa!!


End file.
